


bartering for pleasure

by cactusparade



Series: i sold my soul (and it only cost my humanity) [1]
Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: (due to Jason blowing Vaas in exchange for weed), Blow Jobs, Getting Together, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Recreational Drug Use, dick stepping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusparade/pseuds/cactusparade
Summary: "Vaas doesn’t even pause. He speaks around his joint and the way the smoke curls around his face, tinged purple in the light, makes Jason suddenly want. It hits him out of nowhere. He doesn’t know what to do about it; hereallyneeds that weed.Jason reaches out with his free arm. “Give me a hit.”Thatgets Vaas to stop. The tension rises as Vaas gets up and stalks closer. “I’m sorry, who left you in charge? Who the fuck do you think you are, making fucking demands?” He squats just outside of Jason’s reach. His voice is quiet but every part of his body is poised, anger always lurking just below the surface."
Relationships: Jason Brody/Vaas Montenegro
Series: i sold my soul (and it only cost my humanity) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643206
Comments: 9
Kudos: 153





	bartering for pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> so i played fc3 for the first time this year (only 7 and a half years late, i know) and i fell in love with vaas. it's the first game i've earned a platinum trophy for, and by the time i was done, my stats were 1100+ people killed and 29 in-game days survived. those stats are the basis for jason's in this fic.
> 
> disclaimer: i've never given a blowjob when high or skinned an animal so y'know, take it with a grain of salt. also please note that there is a very brief mention of suicidal ideation in the first sentence.
> 
> not beta'd. i don't even know if this fandom is still alive anymore but if you're reading this, please enjoy!

If Jason let himself stop and think about how easily he’s settled into his new life at the compound, he’d try to slit his wrists open immediately. Every single one of the thousand people he’s killed, every life turned body left to rot would have been for nothing. He can’t let something like that be for nothing, so he doesn’t stop to think about it.

It’s not like he has the time anyway. Since getting to Vaas’ compound, he hasn’t had a moment alone. He trains with Vaas’ men, hunts with Vaas’ men, eats with Vaas’ men, and sleeps on a dingy mattress with one arm chained to the floor in Vaas’ room. He’d be more indignant about the last part if he wasn’t getting at least two squares meals a day and a proper bed, blood and other stains notwithstanding.

The Islands have changed him, both mentally and physically. He considers every day that he isn’t mauled by a tiger or infested with lice a success. The bar is on the ground compared to his old life. California feels like a lifetime ago; he can’t fathom that it’s been less than 90 days since he’s been on American soil. He wonders how his friends are doing - if they’re healing. If Riley and their mom are clinging to one another as tightly as possible or if going from a four person family to a two person family has put an uncrossable chasm between them. He hopes more than anything that Riley can eventually put this place behind him, sooner rather than later, that he can be young and dumb again and go wherever their mom’s credit card will allow.

_I want to call him_ , Jason thinks desperately while he finishes skinning the deer he took down a handful of minutes ago. Vaas’ men had been with him the whole time but promptly made their way back towards camp as a way to get out of helping butcher it. It’s a messy affair, Jason’s technique still not as refined as it could be, and he personally - and a little bitterly - thinks everything would’ve been much easier if they’d just carried it back to camp and had someone more skilled than him do it. But with himself and only one pirate left on babysitting duty in the immediate vicinity, there’s a sense of peace that’s been hard to come by now that his life is controlled by Vaas and his rapid mood swings. The pirate - Diego, Jason is pretty sure - is behind him sharpening his knife and humming a surprisingly in-key tune. It’s easy to lose himself in the monotony of it.

Diego’s radio crackles to life with the sound of Vaas’ voice. He doesn’t sound _too_ angry, but it’s hard for Jason to say for sure when it’s all in Spanish. Diego gives Jason a once-over before he replies to Vaas, also in Spanish, and the barest hint of a smirk appears on his face. Whatever he said makes Vaas start yelling, which only causes Diego to smirk wider.

“What was that about?” Jason asks off-hand when he bags the venison. His lack of a second language is a frequent topic of conversation among the pirates, another way for them to poke fun at him and his cushy California life. Jason lets it wash over him; he’ll pick something up eventually through shear proximity. Probably.

“Vaas is very fond of you,” Diego says, equally as casual. When that’s all he says, Jason turns slightly and motions with bloody hands for him to continue. “He saw the others back at the compound without you and worked himself into a frenzy.” Diego shakes his head with a small chuckle. “I don’t imagine most of them will live.”

Jason makes a face but doesn’t comment. He learned very early on his place wasn’t to question Vaas’ decisions. He can still feel the ghost of pain from when Vaas beat him unconscious the first and only time Jason spoke up. The concussion fucked him up for days, and his nose will never be straight again. Learning through pain has been the most effective tool for Jason.

“I don’t know if _fond_ is the word I’d use.” Job finished, Jason stands and winces as his knees pop. Diego grabs half the meat without being asked and starts to head back to the compound. Jason follows and focuses on the humming that starts up again rather than the gunshots that can be heard in the direction they’re heading.

***

“You shot them,” Jason says later. He’s in his usual place chained to the floor, soaking in the hypnotic way the neon lights play across the topography of his skin and the cement walls around him. He wants the weed that Vaas is smoking, its pungent smell filling the room while Vaas cleans his gun at his desk in the corner.

“I did.” Vaas doesn’t even pause. He speaks around his joint and the way the smoke curls around his face, tinged purple in the light, makes Jason suddenly _want_. It hits him out of nowhere. He doesn’t know what to do about it; he _really_ needs that weed.

Jason reaches out with his free arm. “Give me a hit.”

_That_ gets Vaas to stop. The tension rises as Vaas gets up and stalks closer. “I’m sorry, who left you in charge? Who the fuck do you think you are, making fucking demands?” He squats just outside of Jason’s reach. His voice is quiet but every part of his body is poised, anger always lurking just below the surface.

“C’mon, Vaas,” Jason pleads, just as quiet. “I’ve been good. I haven’t tried to run away, I haven’t spoken out of turn since that first time, I got a deer today.” He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, just knows he’s determined now. “Please? Just one hit.” He wrenches his arm painfully to get an extra inch so he can skim fingers briefly along Vaas’ knee.

Vaas watches his hand and then looks him dead in the eye. “You think I should reward you for that? That I should give you my fucking weed because you’re doing what you’re supposed to?”

“I’ll suck your dick,” Jason offers.

A single eyebrow climbs skyward. “You’re really that desperate?”

Jason nods. 

“Okay, Jason,” Vaas says. 

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket as he stands next to the mattress, sparking the joint once more before handing it off to a kneeling Jason. Jason takes a deep inhale, deeper than his out-of-practice lungs advise, but he holds off the coughing fit until after he’s exhaled. Vaas laughs as he chokes, but it’s slightly less malicious than normal. Tears on his face, Jason holds the joint out in Vaas’ direction, intent on keeping his word. He gets a head shake in response.

He doesn’t give Vaas time to rescind his generosity. The next hit goes smoother, and Vaas must grow some powerful strains because he’s already feeling it. One second he’s fully in control, the next it’s like his consciousness is a buoy that’s dipping below the water of awareness. His body operates without executive choices being made and it’s the best he’s felt since the skydive that brought him here. 

“Good stuff, huh?” Vaas asks. He’s got his pants down just far enough that his cock sticks out and nothing else. The head is a pretty shade of red that peeks out from his foreskin, enticing Jason to reach out and touch. He decides it has to be the weed messing with him because he’d never describe any dick as _pretty_ if he was in his right mind. 

It is though. Proportionate to the rest of his body, it’s not intimidating enough to make Jason want to back out, despite a deal being a deal, and it looks surprisingly clean. There’s no atrocious smell, at any rate - no visible diseases present either. The idea that Vaas actually takes some measure of care for his body, even if it’s just his cock, gets Jason exponentially more enthused about his task. The stories he’s heard from the pirates around the compound remind him it could be a lot worse than this. There’s rarely a day that goes by without one of them complaining about catching something.

Jason opens his mouth and waits for Vaas to close the distance. There’s no teasing preamble before he sticks half the length in Jason’s mouth. He closes his mouth around it, careful to keep his teeth out of the way, knowing even now that any misstep - accidental or otherwise - won’t end well for him. 

Vaas starts with a surprisingly restrained pace, hips flexing forward easily. Jason is grateful; his rarely-broadcasted history with men was very sporadic and he knows he’s out of practice. Vaas doesn’t seem to mind; he threads a hand in Jason’s hair and groans, gradually picking up speed. His dick glides smoothly across his tongue, excess saliva easing it. He glances up at Vaas, sees the smooth line of Vaas’ throat with his head thrown back, and Jason feels harder than he’s ever been. Even Liza can’t compare, and oh, that’s something he’s going to have to unpack at a later time. 

“Knew that fucking mouth was good for something,” Vaas says. His grip tightens and Jason’s own cock twitches in response. “Bet you sucked dick every chance you got, California boy.” Jason hums an affirmation despite the falsehood. It seems to get Vaas hotter, the idea that he would let anyone fuck his mouth. His groan is louder than before, his pace almost urgent now. Every forward thrust puts him in Jason’s throat, the weed dampening his gag reflex, the taste of precum deliciously bitter in his mouth.

He’s so out of it that it takes him a second to realize Vaas has moved back. He rubs the tip of his cock against Jason’s lips in a debaucherous imitation of lipstick; the part of Jason that’s been broken down and built back up by the Islands reveals in it. Vaas spits in his hand and reaches down to jerk himself almost savagely. Jason barely shuts his eyes in time for the first rope of cum that hits his face. It seems never ending, so hot it feels like it’s branding him. He thinks he wouldn’t mind if it did. The idea of every person he comes across knowing how thoroughly Vaas _owns_ him… his whole body quivers.

Ejaculation over, Vaas tilts his hips forward again so Jason can clean him off. He gives gentle licks to the tip, letting the salty taste coat his tongue before he swallows it all in one go. His own desire to cum becomes desperate, cock drooling inside his pants and leaving an obvious wet spot on the light khaki next to his zipper. Vaas gives him a critical once over and Jason wonders at what a sight he must make. The Rakyat warrior, receiver of the _tatau_ , liberator of outposts and allies alike, hard and leaking in his pants, face covered in cum, kneeling before Vaas Montenegro. He can’t find it in himself to regret anything. 

Jason whines when Vaas starts to make himself presentable again. It earns him a scoff. “First you want my fucking weed, now you want to cum? Fucking greedy white boy.” He settles his foot in between Jason’s spread legs all the same, presses _hard_ against his dick, and Jason wants to sob at the combination of sensations. 

He drives his hips up without any finesse, too intent on cumming before Vaas decides he’s done with whatever this little game was and leaves him aching. He should be disgusted: here he is, _covered_ in cum, humping Vaas’ boot so he can cum in his pants like some fucking teenager. He should be humiliated, and he is, but it’s the best kind of humiliation. He feels dirty, _used_ , and that pushes him to grind faster. He should be righteously angry but he isn’t. It feels like the best gift he’s ever been given. 

He moans arduously when he finally cums, hunched over Vaas’ leg and getting as close as he can to feel the pressure become more painful than pleasurable. The warmth that floods his boxers nearly makes him lose his mind, and he hopes that next time Vaas cums all over his cock, another obscene way to mark him. To let Jason know that there is no part of him that doesn’t belong to Vaas. He wants to exist purely for Vaas’ pleasure. 

Vaas puts pressure on the hinges of his jaw to force his panting mouth open wider. Two fingers sweep through the semen on his cheeks and settle right along his taste buds. Jason licks them the best he can while still having a forceful hand on his jaw, wanting everything Vaas gives him. Intent on touching every part of his tongue first, the fingers withdraw slowly; once removed, Vaas bends down slightly to spit right where they were moments before. 

“You’re a fucking slut,” is all Vaas says, but it sounds almost reverential. He goes back to his desk to pull out a key, tosses it to Jason so he can unlock himself. Jason stares at it, confused, which makes Vaas sigh and come back over to free him himself. “You are _fucked up, hermano_.”  
Like Jason needs it fucking spelled out for him. 

Jason gets steered towards the beach with a firm grip on his bicep. The moon is bright without any sort of light pollution, waves lapping gently at the shore. It’s incredibly peaceful and Jason breathes deep and tries to commit the scene to memory. 

“Clean yourself up.” He gets his shirt off before Vaas speaks up again. “And start keeping yourself fucking clean. Never know when I’m gonna wanna fuck you. Spontaneity, and all that.”

“Even in front of your men?” Jason hedges, toeing his shoes off. 

“ _Especially_ in front of them.”

Jason bites his tongue so hard it bleeds to keep from begging for it.

**Author's Note:**

> do i use semi colons right? who knows ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> [tumblr](https://cactusparade.tumblr.com/)


End file.
